


A Wilted Daisy

by lynnie_annie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Angry Harry Potter, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF George Weasley, BAMF Harry Potter, Bad Severus Snape, Cedric Diggory Lives, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female Harry, Female Harry Potter, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Gryffindor, Gryffindor Harry Potter, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kind Harry Potter, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Multi, Not Beta Read, Redemption, References to Depression, Sad Harry Potter, Severus Snape Bashing, Sexism, Sirius Black Lives, Smart Harry Potter, Starvation, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnie_annie/pseuds/lynnie_annie
Summary: Harriet Daisy Potter always knew something about her was different, everyone in her life made that fact as clear as possible. What she didn't know was that her different was of the magical variety and soon all things in her life would soon be of the magical variety.She also didn't know that even wilted daisies can grow if you put a bit of magic on them.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Everyone, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & Slytherin Students, Harry Potter/Everyone, Harry Potter/George Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	1. The Sneaky Snake and The Girl Under The Stairs

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursley’s had found their niece on their doorstep that fateful night, but Number four Privet Drive stayed nearly the same. Petunia’s front garden was still tidy and neat as the sun rose over it and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys’ front door. The light then crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago the pictures portrayed a plump baby that almost had the appearance of a beach ball at a great distance. This boy was no longer dressed in brightly colored bonnets though as Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby. The photographs now showed a chubby young boy with fluffy blonde hair doing things like riding a bike, sitting on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, and being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another child lived in this house other than a small photo tucked in the back corner of a shelf, in case anyone asked to see ‘the little one’, though no one ever did.  
Yet Harriet Daisy Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Her Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.  
“Up! Get up! Now!”  
Harriet woke with a start and a huffed breath. Her aunt rapped on the door again with her sharp knuckles. “Up!” she screeched. Harriet heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream she had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. She had a funny feeling she’d had the same dream before, but it must have been quite a long time ago.  
Her aunt was back outside her door letting her small fist rap against the hardwood.  
“Are you up yet Harriet?”  
Harriet’s throat itched as she called back “Almost”  
“Well, get a move on, I want you to cook breakfast, you know that's your job. And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudley’s birthday.”  
Harriet put a hand over her mouth as she let out a soft groan. It was better if her aunt didn’t know she was annoyed, if she did then the rants would come.  
Dudley’s birthday — how could she have forgotten? It was of course- the most important day in the year in the house she had grown up in. Maybe it was wishful thinking that they would forget she existed for it. Harriet got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under in the small box beside her bed that she kept all her clothes in and put them on. As she did so she watched a spider scuttle across her ceiling. Harriet was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept.  
When she was dressed into one of the many dresses she had sewn herself she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harriet, as Dudley hated exercise — unless of course, it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was Harriet, but he couldn’t often catch her. Harriet didn’t look at it, but she was very fast.  
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard or not getting quite as much food as she should have, but Harriet had always been small and skinny for her age. She looked even smaller and skinnier than she really was when she stood next to Dudley as he was much larger than her. This appearance was only doubled by the feminine clothes she was forced to wear. You see Harriet had to make all of her own clothes as her aunt said that she would be a waste of money to buy any, but wouldn’t let the girl make anything other than modestly long dresses and winter coats. This femininity in conflict to the brash boyishness of Dudley's own -purchased from the mall- clothes made most see her as a dainty little thing. Harriet had a thin face, knobbly knees, messy black hair, and bright green eyes. The only things Harriet liked about her own appearance was a very thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning and the way it contrasted against her fairly dark skin. She, and the other kids at her school, often thought that she must be mixed race in some manner, but her aunt never let her know anything about her heritage so it was a bit of a mystery to her. She had had the almost white scar as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking her Aunt Petunia was how she had gotten it.  
“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask questions.”  
Don’t ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.  
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harriet was turning over the bacon, just after she had finished cutting up the fruit that they would most certainly not eat and leave for her.  
“Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting before adding “And braid it back so I don’t have to see it!”  
About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harriet needed a haircut. Harriet must have had more haircuts than the rest of the girls in her class put together, but it made no difference, her hair simply grew that way — all over the place.  
It reached just past the bottom of her ribs and was yet another reason that she stuck out then the rest so she had to keep it held back in all sorts of braids and up-dos that she learned to do all by herself so that no one would be bothered by ‘that unsightly mess’ as her uncle called it.  
Harriet was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a round pink face, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harriet often said that Dudley looked like a cartoon version of a boy.  
Harriet put the plates of egg, bacon, and mixed fruit on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.  
“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.”  
“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.”  
“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Harriet, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down her fruit and bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.  
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, Popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?”  
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally, he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty . . . thirty . . .”  
“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia.  
“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right then.”  
Uncle Vernon chuckled.  
“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ’Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair.  
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harriet and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried which made Harriet bristle slightly with anxiety. It never meant anything good for her when her aunt had that look in her eyes.  
“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg has broken her leg. She can’t take her.” She jerked her head in Harriet’s direction, not daring to look at the girl as it would make her filled with guilt. At least Harriet thought she would be as Petunia’s eyes always softened if she looked at Harriet even a second too long.  
Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, but Harriet’s heart gave a leap. She must have been wrong about the bad omen of her aunt’s expression. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harriet was left behind with Mrs. Figg, an old lady who lived two streets away. Harriet hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg didn’t even really look after her. She just ended up playing in the forest nearby then rushing back to the old home just before they got back.  
“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harriet as though she’d planned this. Harriet knew she ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg and she really did, but those emotions were overtaken with the joy from the idea of leaving the house for the day.  
“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.  
“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl. She says she’s too quiet”  
The Dursleys often spoke about Harriet like this, as though she wasn’t there — or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn’t understand them, like a slug of a monster that hid in the shadows. She supposed it was sort of her fault as she had gotten quite good at not being seen, so good at it that she often did it on accident.  
“What about whats-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?”  
“On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia.  
“You could just leave me here,” Harriet put in hopefully (she’d be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer).  
Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon. “And come back and find the house in ruins? Or worse, you’d eat up all the food in the house and get fat! Like we need you standing out anymore!” she snarled.  
“I won’t blow up the house,” said Harriet, but they weren’t listening.  
“I suppose we could take her to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “. . . and leave her in the car. . . .”  
“That car’s new, she’s not sitting in it alone. . . .”  
Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t really crying — it had been years since he’d really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.  
“Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let her spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.  
“I...don't...want...her...t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. “She always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Harriet a nasty grin through the gap in his mother’s arms.  
Just then, the doorbell rang — “Oh, good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them and always had some nasty remark to make about what he would like to do to Harriet. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once. He would never let himself seem so weak in front of one of his friends, or rather goons.  
Half an hour later, Harriet, who couldn’t believe her luck(truly she was waiting for something bad to happen on bated breath), was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car in between Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with her, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harriet aside.  
“I’m warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harriet’s, “I’m warning you now, girl — any funny business, anything at all — and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.”  
“I’m not going to do anything,” said Harriet, “honestly, you know I wouldn’t do anything to purposely anger you”  
But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe her. No one ever did, at least no adult ever did.  
The problem was, strange things often happened around Harriet and it was just no good telling the Dursleys she didn’t make them happen.  
Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harriet coming back from the hairstylist looking as though she hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut her hair so short she was almost bald except for her bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harriet, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where she was already laughed at for flinching at the slightest things and preferring to spend her time alone in the woods or with animals that were always oddly drawn to her. The next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. She even though it may have been a bit longer. She had been given a week in her cupboard with no food for this, even though she had tried to explain that she couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly and that there was no possible way that she could have done it.  
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to destroy one of the few dresses she had made for herself that she truly liked. It was made from a deep emerald green that was gifted to her from Ms.Figg and she had embroidered slider stars along the edges. Aunt Petunia said it was odd and tried to rip it off her body the moment she looked at the young girl in it. The only problem was that every time she tried to pull it off the girl the fabric itself clung to the girl’s skin, refusing to budge against the woman’s hold. To her great relief her aunt didn’t punish her or tell her uncle of the experience, she instead just stared at the girl’s eyes with a faraway look in her eyes.  
On the other hand, she’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley’s gang had been chasing her as usual when, as much to Harriet’s surprise as anyone else’s, there she was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harriet’s headmistress telling them Harriet had been climbing school buildings. But all she’d tried to do (as she shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of her cupboard so loud her voice went hoarse ) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors to hide in the shadows. People never seemed to find her if she tried to tuck herself into the shadows. Harriet supposed that the wind must have caught her in mid-jump.  
But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, her cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage-smelling living room.  
While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harriet, the council, his niece, the bank, and Harriet were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.  
“. . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.  
Harriet wanted to mention her dream, she thought that in any normal family it would be laughed off, but she bit her tongue. She had gotten good at doing that because no matter how hard the Dursley’s said they were normal there was nothing normal about how they treated their niece.  
If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was her talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, as they seemed to think it would give her dangerous ideas. So she learned to bite her tongue and hold in her dangerous ideas no matter how she thought a normal family would react to them.  
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harriet what she wanted before they could hurry her away, they bought her a cheap lemon ice pop. The woman’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she turned to Harriet and told her she was very pretty and she liked her dress. When Harriet told her she made it herself her smile faltered even more. Harriet wasn’t sure why the woman seemed upset, but the ice pop wasn’t bad, Harriet thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley when he was confused by one of her little tricks at school, except that it wasn’t blond.  
Harriet had the best morning she’d had in a long time. She was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting, or hitting on in Piers’ case, her. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one, and Harriet was allowed to finish the first though Aunt Petunia looked like she was about to have a fit about the number of calories Harriet would consume that day.  
Harriet felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last. All the nice things in her life tended to be.  
After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Harriet once again had to bite her tongue when she wanted to mention that she thought snakes were cool too. She knew it would just lead her aunt to rant to her about how snakes weren’t things little girls should be interested in.  
Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.  
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.  
“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge.  
“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.  
“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.  
Harriet moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least she got to visit the rest of the house.  
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harriet’s.  
It winked.  
Harriet stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t, they never were. She looked back at the snake and winked, too.  
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harriet a look that said quite plainly:  
“I get that all the time.”  
“I know,” Harriet murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the snake could hear her as she kept herself as quiet as possible. That was another thing she had gotten good at, speaking quieter than any other person she knew could. Other people were always too loud. “It must be really annoying. I know I get annoyed when they get like that, far too loud for my taste”  
The snake nodded vigorously.  
“Where do you come from, anyway?” Harriet asked.  
The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harriet peered at it.  
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.  
“Was it nice there? I’ve always wondered what it was like in other places, maybe I would be a bit freer”  
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harriet read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to Brazil?”  
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harriet made both of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”  
Dudley must have headed over to them as she had tucked herself inward from the shock of the sound.  
“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harriet harshly in the ribs. Caught by surprise as she was still in a bit of shock from the shouting, she fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leaped back with howls of horror.  
Harriet sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.  
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harriet could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come. . . . Thanksss, amigo. Maybe one day you can join me and be free”  
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.  
“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”  
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harriet had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harriet at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harriet was talking to it, weren’t you, bird?”  
She quickly let out a soft “No, it’s impossible to speak to animals Piers”, but she could already see the rage bubbling off of her adult relatives.  
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harriet. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.  
Harriet lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing she had a watch. She didn’t know what time it was and she couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, she couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.  
She’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she’d been a baby and her parents had died in that car crash. She couldn’t remember being in the car when her parents had died. Sometimes, when she strained her memory during long hours in her cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and burning pain on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, she imagined all the green light came from another car, or possibly the street lights. She couldn’t remember her parents at all. Her aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course, she was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. She sometimes imagined that she looked quite a bit like her mother as Petunia would sometimes call her by her mother’s name, ‘Lily’.  
When she had been younger, Harriet had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take her away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were her only family. Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know her. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harriet furiously if she knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at her once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harriet tried to get a closer look. She sometimes wished that one would take her with them to wherever they disappeared too.  
At school, Harriet had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harriet Potter who always hung out in the woods or with animals and would sometimes claim that she heard voices when she did, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.


	2. The Owl Given Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet finds a letter, an owl, and a possibility of a new home.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harriet her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.  
Harriet was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley’s favorite sport: Harriet Hunting.  
This was why Harriet spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn’t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harriet, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.  
“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harriet. “Want to come upstairs and practice?”  
“No, thanks,” said Harry. “I would rather not have to explain to Aunt Petunia why your head is stuck in her toilet” she ran off before he could fully understand what she had said.   
One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harriet at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before which meant Harriet got to take up the prime job of giving them pets. She let Harriet watch television and gave her a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several years after telling her she looked too thin.  
That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand new uniform. Smeltings’ boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.  
As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn’t believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harriet didn’t trust herself to speak. She thought two of her tongue would bleed from how hard she bit it to keep in her thoughts.   
Aunt Petunia gave her a cross look as she entered the kitchen that morning, in her hands were bundles of fresh fabric of all different kinds.   
“These are for your clothes next year girl. You don’t have a dress code like my Dudley, but you know how you are expected to dress” her aunt handed her the fabric, taking extra care not to look into her eyes as she did so.   
Harriet nodded quirky “I know, don’t worry”  
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because Harriet was in view. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.  
“Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.  
“Make Harriet get it.”  
“Get the mail, Harriet.”  
“Make Dudley get it.”  
“Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley.” Harriet dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — a letter for Harriet. Harriet picked it up and stared at it, her heart aching with sudden longing. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would?  
She had no friends, no other relatives — she didn’t belong to the library no matter how many times she begged her aunt to take her to one, so she’d never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:  
Ms. H. Potter  
The Cupboard under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey  
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, her hands both trembling harshly, Harriet saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.  
“Hurry up, girl!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke. Harry went back to the kitchen, only after tucking the letter she got into one of the pockets she had sewn into her dress. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and clung to her envelope in her pocket with all of her might while she tried her best not to be seen. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. “Marge’s ill,” he informed Aunt Petunia. “Ate a funny whelk...”  
“Could I go to my room Aunt Petunia, I would like to get an early start on making some dresses for next year with these lovely fabrics. Thank you again by the way” Harriet asked as she picked up the bolts of brightly colored fabric. 

Her aunt hummed slightly before saying “Thinking of your room, its high time we move you into the second guest bedroom. You are a young lady now and it would be seen as inappropriate to any guests we have over if they saw you tucked under the stairs. That will be your job today, moving your things into that room. Then you will of course still have to do all of your chores around the house and help me with dinner, don't you think that’s fair love?” she turned to Vernon with a pleasant smile. 

“Yes, dear. Always so smart you are, we can’t have people asking any questions about the girl. She can move herself in today while we are out with my family to celebrate Dudley’s acceptance into Smeltings Academy like any good Dursley would” Vernon said with as much of a contemplative look as he could muster. 

Ah, that must be why they were letting her move rooms, in case his relatives wanted to visit. They would probably have many questions as to why Harriet slept under the stairs and the Dursleys hated questions. 

Petunia smiled wide at her husband “Of course” she then turned to Harriet and let her depression turn sour “Well then, girl, get a move on. You still have to finish all of your chores after you move your things”

Harriet nodded quickly and shoved the rest of the fruit on her plate into her mouth before scurrying into her cupboard. She immediately shoved the letter from her pocket into the box with all of her clothes. She then hoisted the box onto her hip before walking up to the guest bedroom that she had cleaned so many times before. 

The room looked like it always did though it gave her a different feeling now. It had a large bed with a fluffy cotton duvet and four pillows that she always had to mess with before a guest would come over, but now she was the one that would be resting on that bed. In one corner of the room was a dresser, she had never had a dresser and was excited to fill it with all of the clothes she made for herself, and on the other side of the room sat a desk, her very own desk. 

Looking over her shoulder to double-check that her door was closed, Harriet pulled the letter out from her box of clothes and set it on her desk. Her hands shook as she looked at it for a long moment before picking it back up and opening it. 

There were two pages inclosed inside the envelope, the first one read:  
“Dear Ms.Potter,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
This Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress”  
Harriet blinked, once, twice, then a third time before reading over the first page of the letter again and suddenly everything that had ever happened to her fell into place in her mind and made sense. The people only she could see, those that would disappear before her very eyes the moment after they introduced themselves to her, all of the accidents that happened around her when she was upset, hell everything that had ever happened around her, it all made sense. Or this was some mean joke made by the kids at her school whispered that she was a witch when she would come running out of the forest after school, she hoped it was the former, she hoped she was truly magical.   
A beat of absolute optimism fell over Harriet for the first time in her life, she had never let herself feel so rawly hopeful before, but then it crashed down around her as she realized with dread that she would have to tell The Dursleys, the king, and queen of normalcy, that she was to go to a school for witchcraft. Then there was of course the fact that she didn’t have an owl too-  
Then Harriet saw it, or rather him. An owl had perched itself on the window that led into her new room, it looked at her expectantly then looked down at her letter. She nodded her head as she pulled a piece of parchment and a pen out of the desks drawer and began to write:   
“Dear Deputy Headmistress,  
I would first and foremost like to thank you sincerely for the opportunity to go to your school. I'd be more than grateful to attend this coming term, but I do have a bit of a situation. You see, I’m not quite sure how to get any of the supplies that you listed, nor do I have any money to my name to purchase them. I was wondering if there was any way that the school could loan me some supplies that I could return at the end of term, or if any staff would be willing to take me to wherever I can purchase my supplies once I find a way to pay for them. I’m so sorry for any inconvenience that this may place on you, but I can’t ask my current guardians for help on the matter. They have a distinct hatred for anything out of the usual, I learned quite a long time ago to not bring up anything that would set their sights on me so if there is any way you could help me with figuring out a way to explain all of this to them without them locking me away till I starve to death I would be eternally grateful to you. I am once again sorry if this causes you or your staff any problems. I hope to hear back from you soon and really hope this isn’t a prank of some kind because if it is I’ll cry. Thank you for your time.  
Sincerely,   
Harriet Daisy Potter”  
Harriet quickly fouled the letter before putting it in an envelope and writing the school’s name alongside the deputy headmistress’s title on the side before slowly opening her window. Peaking out front she could see that her Uncle’s car was gone meaning they had left without telling her, causing her to smile slightly before she turned to the bird that had been staring intently upon her.   
It tilted its head at her slightly before lifting up one of its feat which had a bit of string wrapped around it. Harriet steadily, or as steadily as she could with how her nerves wrecked through her, attached her letter to the owl’s leg while staring it down in hopes to be able to move back if it portrayed any sense of discomfort. Instead of scratching her or screeching the owl looked oddly bored, at least as bored as an owl can look, as it watched her just as closely.   
“Erm- If you would give that letter to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall I would be very thankful” Harriet muttered to the bird, not quite sure if she should feel silly or not after she had tightly fashioned her letter to it. It cawed back at her in a manner that felt far too human to Harriet before it flew off into the distance causing her to let out the breath she had been holding before shaking her head.   
Harriet still had work to do, even if she was a witch. God- was she a witch? A cold hand clapped over her mouth scaring her for the second before she realized it was her own. Shaking her head she turned and walked down the steep stairs of her guardians' home. She quickly moved what little things she had into her new room before going to do her daily chores.   
To clean the house first Harriet would dust everything in the house, then she would sweep the floors, then she would vacuum the carpets, next she would mop the floors and scrub the surfaces around the house clean. Once she got all of that done she would clean every bedroom in the house then start in the garden. The hot summer sun would be about halfway down the sky when she had finally finished up on grooming her Aunt’s garden, she could practically hear the woman bragging to her friends about all of the hard work she put into her roses when it was actually all Harriet’s work.   
Harriet let out a low sigh as she wiped the sweat from her brow as she glanced about the garden for any mistakes when she saw it. The owl from before swooped into the bedroom, her bedroom she corrected herself, ‘s window with a letter before popping out of it to sit on the roof. A smile flew to the small girl’s lips as she quickly ran into her ‘home’ and up into her new room. Sitting on her new desk was a yellow envelope in the same style that the envelope she stole away this morning was. Once again there could be no mistake as to who the letter was for:   
Ms. H. Daisy Potter  
Her New Bedroom Down The Hall  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey  
Harriet quickly flipped the letter over and popped open the wax seal that held it closed. With once again shaking hands she pulled out the letter, this time only one page and from a distance, it looked less robotically written. It read:  
“Dear Miss Potter,  
We are ever so sorry to hear that your current residence would not allow you to go to our establishment”  
Harriet held her breath, tears rimming her eyes already as she accepted the fact that they were about to let her down or tell her it was all a joke.   
“But we are pleased to inform you that you will still be able to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was told many years ago that Hogwarts is a home to all that wish for it to be so I will personally come to your home tomorrow to both help explain a little fib to your guardians as well as take you to Diagon Alley to get your things. I will see you soon and can’t wait to teach you.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress”  
Harriet let a sigh push from her lips as her tears finally rolled down her face, it was real. This was all real.   
She was a witch and a witch was coming to save her from hell, surely the pastor would be upset with her verbiage, but it is the best way to put it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter and the slow update. I've been a bit busy with college, but I'm really excited to write this fic. Next chapter will be pretty long any way. also, Hagrid fans, don't worry your little heads. Our boy will also be in next chapter, its just gonna be different from cannon. I hope you all have lovely week ends and I appreciate comments cause I love making new friends!!


	3. The Deputy Headmistress and The Keeper of Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harriet's saviors come and both don't look how she had expected.

The next day couldn’t have come soon enough for Harriet Daisy Potter. As she woke up, naturally early for once since excitement filled her veins, she clenched her eyes shut and held her breath. Every fiber of her knew she would wake up in the cupboard once again, she knew yesterday must have been a cruel dream. Then, she opened her eyes and, after they adjusted slightly, she saw that she was in fact in the guest bedroom, her bedroom though it didn’t really look like a young girl would live in it. It was still hers.   
A smile stretched across her face as she whispered “It wasn’t a dream.”

Harriet shook her head slightly before pushing herself up from her bed, though every part of her body screamed in defiance as she moved away from warmth she wasn’t used to in the morning. A small laugh bubbled up in her throat as she realized, with joy, that she had blankets now. Real, good blankets that would keep her too-thin body warm when winter hit. Glancing around the room she took in all of her space before moving towards her dresser to pull out one of her many floral dresses, this one with a pattern of daisies funnily enough, and putting it on before heading to the downstairs bathroom to get ready for the day with a blinding grin on her face. 

The Dursleys were fairy happy on that particular morning as Harriet set breakfast on the table just as they all reached the dining room for the morning. She had whipped together platters of fried eggs, toast, bacon, and mixed fruit before situating herself in the kitchen to eat her much smaller breakfast while lightly humming the tune of a romantic song she had heard on the radio.

Then a knock on the door rang throughout the house. It was proper and not too loud, but sharp enough to be heard in the kitchen. 

Harriet, with the biggest smile she ever had, moved to open the door as she normally did when someone was at it when Petunia suddenly put a hand on her shoulder “I’ll answer the door girl, we can’t have you being the first person that whoever is at the door sees.”

The woman walked to the door and all Harriet could do was watch in absolute terror as she realized that this was it. Her aunt would turn away the professor and Harriet would once again be trapped. At least that was what she thought until she saw the woman at the door. 

She was a tall, stern-looking witch with black hair that was drawn into a tight bun on the top of her head. She was clothed in a classic looking dress with a black blazer and a glittering broach.   
In thin her hands she clung to a briefcase. Her stern-looking face molded into a polite smile as she shook hands with Petunia, the two saying things to each other Harriet couldn’t quite hear as her ears seemed to be filled with static. 

Harriet bit her lip as she looked at the woman, she was completely and utterly normal. 

“HARRIET!!”

Harriet let out a choked gasp at her aunt’s shoat, clinging to herself in fear. Before shaking her head slightly, only now noticing that her uncle had moved into the living room as well and all of them were looking at her expectantly. 

“I- I’m sorry Aunt Petunia I was staring into space there, wasn't I. Sorry, urm- what can I do for you?” Harriet fought to keep her face and tone as flat as possible, no note of anything her family could scrutinize. 

Her Aunt rolled her eyes before sharply glaring at Harriet, but as she opened her mouth to speak the woman who was previously at the door turned to Harriet saying “I was just introducing myself, dear. I am Minerva McGonagall of Ogwartshay School For Young Ladies. As I was telling your relatives, your parents had set up for you to go to my school well before they passed away. They wanted me to make a proper lady out of you.”

“I- That's brilliant news isn’t it Aunt Petunia! You are the one who’s always telling me I should act more like a lady, this is the perfect chance for me to learn how to be one,” Harriet turned to her Aunt with a wide grin while the woman just gave her an apprehensive look on her face. 

Her aunt looked like she was about to speak again when Vernon said “We’re not paying for the girl to go off to school when the public one does just fine!!”

“Oh, I can assure you Mr.Dursley, you will not be paying a cent for her schooling. Her parents sent me the money for her to go to my school after the girl was born and the school will loan her all of the supplies she needs. The only thing you need to do is allow me to take her with me today to get her uniform fitted and then on the first of September I or one of my colleagues will come to take her to school. It's a border school so you won’t have to worry about her for most of the year as we’ll be looking after her” Mrs.Mcgonagall smiled at them all, though her eyes stayed on Harriet in a way that settled the girl’s nerves. 

Vernon’s brows furrowed before his wife grabbed his arm turning him toward her “It honestly sounds like a good plan dear! We, we wouldn’t need to look after her all year long, and if the fr- if her parents paid for it then I don’t see how it would cause us any issues.” 

Her husband looked at her for a moment before sighing and nodding his head “If you really think you can make a lady out of the girl, then I see no issue with you taking her for the day and for her schooling” 

“Wonderful,” Mrs.Mcgonagall clapped her hands together before turning to Harriet “Now dear, I accidentally parked my car a bit away from her, I mixed up the streets, so we do have a bit of a walk. We best be off now so as not to waste the day away.”

The woman stood for her seat on the, honestly garishly decorated, couch before walking up to Harriet and putting an arm around the much smaller girl to lead her to the door, “I’ll have her back by 8 pm, we have quite a bit of work to do to get her up to our standards. Don’t you worry though, I’ll feed her.”

Her aunt and uncle nodded as the pair walked to the front door and left the large home with small smiles on their faces. 

As the door closed Mrs.Mcgonagall turned to her with a smile, “Well now that we’ve got you out of there I’ll explain the truth to you on the way to our companion” 

“Companion?” 

“Yes, a colleague of mine that wanted to see you. Sadly, we wouldn’t have been able to make him blend into how your guardians would expect a normal employee of a ladies finishing school to look. He, and our vehicle, should be right about here.”

Harriet was about to ask the woman why he would look so odd, but then she saw the man. He was a giant of a man standing next to a tree Harriet had climbed almost her entire life, next to him it looked like a shrub. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. 

Harriet sucked in her breath slightly in shock, a tremor of fear flooding through her, until she saw the large grin stretching across his face as he said “Professor Mc’onagall, it's so good to see you. An’ here’s little Harri!”

Harriet looked up at the man in shock as he moved to pull her in the tightest hug she had ever had. The Dursleys never touched Harriet unless it was absolutely necessary and it was never a touch of affection. 

“Now Hagrid, put the poor girl down before you crush her. We have lots to talk about before we leave,” Professor McGonagall sat at one of the many picnic tables situated about the park and waved the two to sit with her. 

The giant man, Hagrid, set Harriet back down on the ground with a bashful grin as he rubbed the back of his head “ Sorry a’out that Hari! Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby.”

“It's quite alright sir, I’m just not very used to physical contact. Sorry,” Harriet and Hagrid both sat with Professor McGonagall, the two adults on one side, and the girl on the other. 

Hagrid looked at her with his full attention for a moment before saying “Yeh look a lot like yer mom, but yeh’ve got yer dad’s hair n’ skin, but you got yer mum’s eyes” 

“I- Thank you, sir. I suppose I don’t need to introduce myself to you both, but it feels wrong not too. I’m Harriet Daisy Potter, but you can call me Harri if you like. I’ve never had a nickname before..” Harriet, now known as Harri, trailed off a moment as she looked back at where she would have to walk to go to the Dursleys’ home before snapping her eyes back to the pair before her. 

Hagrid chuckled “True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. An’ this is the Deputy Headmistress Professor Mc’onogall,” He held out an enormous hand and shook Harri’s whole arm.

“Now Miss Potter, I suppose to explain everything we must first know what you know so go ahead and tell us,” Professor McGonagall gestured for the girl to speak. 

“Well, I don’t know much, the Dursleys main rule for me has always been not to ask questions so you can imagine that it’s quite hard to get any info out of them. I presume I’m a witch, at least that’s what the letter seemed to allude to, and I know I can do magic. All sorts of strange things happen around me when I’m emotional, things that shouldn’t be able to happen. I don’t know anything about my family except that my parents died in some sort of accident that I survived, the Dursleys always told me it was a car accident caused by their drunk driving, but I don’t think my parents would do that… at least I hope they wouldn’t” Harriet rambled, her eyes pinned down to the table as she was filled with a feeling of shame that she wasn’t used too. She has spent her whole life never being unable to answer questions either because she went out of her way to learn ahead of the class or she had memorized the scripts that the Dursleys would drill into her mind because she hated that feeling. The feeling of being stupid and of people knowing that you were stupid. 

“Well, your right about what you are, Harri — yer a witch. n’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be?” Hagrid said with his big goofy grin fixated on Harri as she nodded slowly. 

Professor McGonagall nodded as well “I taught both of your parents, James and Lily Potter, they were the two brightest students I’ve ever had the pleasure to teach. And you are right about them not passing in a drunk driving accident, they were killed by a very powerful dark wizard. Most do not say his name due to fear, but I believe you deserve to know the name of the man who killed your parents, his name is Voldemort,” Hagrid let out a sharp gasp beside her “Now, most don’t say his name so it won’t due you much good to go around yelling it, most prefer to call him ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ or ‘You Know Who’. 

He, about twenty years ago now, started looking for followers. And he got lots of them — some were afraid, some just wanted some of his power or protection from it, he was getting himself power, more than most witches and wizards could ever dream of having, of wanting. Those were dark days for all of us, Harri. Most didn’t know who to trust, we didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches because more often than not if you did terrible things happened. He was taking over. Of Course, some people stood up to him — and he killed them. Horribly. One of the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Dumbledore, the Headmaster, is known as the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. So he didn’t try taking the school, not just then, anyway. 

At that time your mum and dad were at their best that I had ever seen them as I taught the pair. They were Head boy and girl at Hogwarts in their day, though your father’s early years certainly weren’t filled with rule-following! It’s still a mystery as to why You-Know-Who never tried to get them on his side before… He probably knew they were too close to Dumbledore to want anything to do with the Dark Side. Maybe he thought he could persuade them… maybe he just wanted them outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you were all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You were just a year old. He came to your house and’ — and —,” McGonagall took a long pause as she looked away from Harriet and let her eyes follow the skyline “and he killed them. They both put up quite the fight, of course, we don’t know that for certain, but I know your mother and father and they wouldn’t have let him get to you without a fight. Then he went to kill you and, well no one knows how, but you lived and he died that night.”

“THE GREAT BLOODY BASTARD TRIED TO KILL YA,” Hagrid burst out suddenly before continuing at a softer tone “of course he wouldn’t be able to though Harri, something was always special about you. Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders.  
Brought yeh ter the Dursleys….”

McGonagall nodded once again “I had watched the family the whole day before he brought you to them. I’m- I’m very sorry that I left you with them, Harriet, you-you shouldn’t have had to stay with them, but I’m certain Dumbldor had and has a reason for leaving you with them.” 

Something very painful was going on in Harri’s mind. As their story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than she had ever remembered it before — and she remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly and though Professor McGonagall's face stayed fairly flat Harri could tell she was trying to cover up some sort of emotion, she had covered up enough of her own to be able to tell when others did as well. 

“I- Thank you for telling me that. I-um- well I have one question, did they- did they love me?” Harriet mumbled, her eyes not meeting the two adults in front of her. 

She heard both adults make audible gasps and it seemed as though Hagrid was about to speak when she saw McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder, “They loved you more then they had ever loved anything else in the world. I remember when they first introduced you to me, your father looked more proud then I had ever seen him before, which says quite a bit considering he was a proud man, and your mother looked at you like you brought the sun to the earth every morning. They both told me they would do anything for you and they did.”

“I- Thank you. I think I know all I need to for now, could we go get my supplies?” Both adults nodded quickly and ushered her to a bright red Ford Fiesta that Hagrid had to hunch down to fit inside. 

Harri sat happily in the back as she looked out the window wanting to think about the future, but her mind couldn’t seem to look away from the past and how she fits into it. She also couldn’t seem to rip her mind from the whispered doubts that floated around the edges of her mind. 

Harri, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch? Her? How could she possibly be? She’d spent her life being beat by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia, and bruised by Uncle Vernon; if she was really a witch, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock her in her cupboard? Why hadn’t Uncle Vernon melted where he stood when he ever so often used her as his punching bag before she had started going to school, because once she had the questions over where bruises were from were not worth the release of anger. If she’d once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come everyone in her life had always been able to kick her around like a football?

Harri shook her head sharply because for all of the questions about why her magic hadn’t protected her there were a thousand more questions about the odd things that happened around her, about the things she could survive when no one her age should have.

It must have been magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this one. I finished it pretty quick so I might take a tiny break and not post again until some time next week. I hope you enjoy and comments are appreciated.


	4. The Archives and The Vaults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet finds herself thrust into the world of magic, the question is: Will she sink or swim?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry for the super late update. I got caught up in college again. Luckily next week is finals so I'll have all of winter break to write. I hope you all enjoy!

Harriet woke up after drifting into sleep in the back of the small car and she once again squeezed her eyes shut tight. 

"It was a dream,” she told himself firmly. "I dreamed I had sent a letter through an owl and a kind woman named McGonagall and a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."

Then a sudden bump in the round sent her sitting up right, her emerald eyes snapping open from the quick movement. 

This must be the Dursley’s car, but as she moved her eyes she saw Hagrid's heavy coat had fallen off of her. The caer was full of sunlight, an indicator that she hadn’t slept long. 

Harri felt a smile spread across her face as she became so happy she felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside her.Her eyes went straight to the window as she stared out on the London streets filled with people. 

“You’re up! I’m sorry I had hoped you would be able to sleep a bit longer,” the chillingly delicate voice of Professor McGonagall cut through the air like a needle sewing through fabric, suddenly. 

Harri’s mouth was dry from sleep “I’m sorry!! I- thank you for letting me sleep.”

“I right bout dough ye would be ‘ble to sleep well wit them muggles about,”   
Hagrid’s low voice lumbered before he let out a gruff chuckle. 

“I sleep alright- I even have my own room now! So that's been nice.”

Hagid nodded his burly head “Well you’ll be gettin plenty of yer own things once we get ta’ Diagon Alley an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harriet was looking out the window when a sudden thought breached her mind that made her feel as though the happy balloon inside her had got a puncture.

"Um — Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling at the seams of his huge boots.

"I haven't got any money — and the Dursleys won't pay for me to go and learn magic, and even if they don’t know what I’m learning they’d just end up sending me to public school sice I don’t deserve to be paid for."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed — "

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts.  
Wizards' bank."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by all sorts of wizards, goblins, magical beings of all sorts."

McGonagall cut in “And even if you didn’t have your parents money, the school loans out books and supplies to those that need them, we wouldn’t just not let them learn.” 

Harriet ignored the women's words for a moment "Goblins? I- magical beings?"

"Yeah — so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with dos at the banks, Harri. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe — 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see.” 

“You’ll meet a few different sorts of magical benign at Hogwarts, though most tend to want to be taught by their own kind since they have different types of magic then most wizards do. Of course you’ll be meeting plenty of goblins once we go to the archives,” Mcgonagall’s voice tailed off as she continued to look at the road ahead of them. 

Harri’s eyes filled up with curiosity as she let her head fall slightly to the side, a habit that she thought had been thoroughly trained out of her by Petunia as the women had a tendency to slap her neck whenever she did so with whichever object was closest to her, “The- the archives?”

“Oh yes- you’d ‘ave to go there to gain access to yer vault,” Hagrid explained. 

McGonagall nodded “The archives are where all of the magical beings of Britain keep their information. This means things like family trees and succession of family estates and lord or lady ships are passed through them. Many goblins work there due to their deep interest as a culture for stories. Don’t fret though, they tend to be quite kind, quite generous as well- If you're ever in any trouble they say to go to a goblin first, but I suppose they are just like any other person. You shouldn’t have any problems with them once we get to the archives though.”

“Oh, okay. I- you mentioned lords and ladies? I thought that type of stuff died out a while ago?” Harriet wanted to hit herself, they probably thought such a question was dumb all things considered. 

McGonagall hummed softly for a moment “It’s mostly something connected to old pureblood families. They needed a way to pass down their names, titles, power and such specifically through their female daughters. This was due to them being the eldest or being an only child. So they created titles like lord and lady that they could pass down while still marrying off said daughters. Most pureblood families only keep the titles now for since its tradition, but they still hold some weight with some. It’s now mostly used as a way to see which family trees you're connected to.” 

“Oh- cool.” 

A sort of silence went over the group as McGonagall continued to drive with Hagrid paging through a newspaper of sorts. Harri craned her head to read it’s title. ‘The Daily Prohpet’was scrawled across the tops of the pages and Harriet could have sworn that the pictures were moving- it must just be her eyes.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harri asked.

"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, turning the page of his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harri sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper and McGonagall stared at the road ahead of them. Shehad learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, she'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harri asked, before she could stop herself. She could almost feel the burn of the slap that she would have gotten at home for such an offence. 

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, 0 'course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job.Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why? I mean, I understand that it would probably be bad because from what I’ve seen in history and such, muggles don’t tend to like people that are different. I- do wizards not like people that are different too?" Harriet mumbled as she trailed off from the silence in the car. 

McGonagall suddenly answered the girl “I suppose it's a bit of both groups not liking things that are different. There are some wizards who don’t quite like muggles and they have been around longer then those of us who would rather work with muggles then work to stay hidden from them. So….. We stay hidden.”

Harriet sighed softly before glancing out the window noticing that passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they drove through the traffic closer to the side walk. 

Harri couldn't blame them.  
Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he began pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly with his window open, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?" while McGonagall just shook her head disapprovingly at him. 

"Hagrid," said Harri, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go, we’re getting close to the entrance. Still got yer letter, Harri?" he asked as he fouled up his newspaper and tucked it into, back into- Harri wasn’t quite sure when he had taken out the parchment, the glove box. 

Harriet pulled the envelope out of the pocket of her floral dress before waving it at the large man with a small smile. 

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list in there of everything yeh need."

Harri unfolded a second piece of paper to glance back over at said list, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY 

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1.Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2.One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3.One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4.One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

glass or crystal phials

telescope set

brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN

BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harri wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

McGonagall quickly added “And we know exactly where to get your things dear” 

Harry had never been to London before. Although McGonagall, and Hagrid to a lesser extent as he would point out places he had been to them both as the older woman drove, seemed to know where they were going. Though Hagrid didn’t seem to understand the normal way. 

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as he glared, honestly quite cutely if Harri were to be honest, at the cars beeping and halting around them as they drove.

Hagrid was so huge that he could have probably parted the crowd of cars easily. As they drove they passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand.  
This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harri hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid and McGonagall had told her so far was unbelievable, Harri couldn't help trusting them.

"This is it," said Hagrid as the car came to a halt, parking in front of the building he pointed too, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harri wouldn't have noticed it was there.The people hurrying by didn't glance at it.Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harri had the most peculiar feeling that only she and her compatrates could see it. Before she could mention this, the adults got out of the car and Hagrid had steered her inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. Another small man, this one with features that weren’t quite human looking, was busying himself as he wrote away at a piece of parchment with a large glass of something orange in it sitting beside him that looked untouched.The low buzz of chatter stopped when the three walked in. Everyone seemed to know McGonagall as they gave her respectful nods or small waves, but they seemed to really know Hagrid; as they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, we’re on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on both Harri and McGonagall’s shoulders and making the younger’s knees buckle while the older just let out a faint scoff.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harri with a look of wonder she only ever seen the few times a not so normal stranger spoke to her, "is this —can this be—?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harriet Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harriet and seized her much smaller hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, M'lady.Potter, welcome back."

Harriet didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harri found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Lady Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Lady Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mrs.Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harriet, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement."You bowed to me once in a shop."

"She remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me! The little lady remembers ME!!" 

Harri shook hands again and again— 

Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid.  
A warm, well warm for the woman, smile spread across McGonagall's face as she turned Harriet to the man "Harry, Professor Quirrell is one of my colleagues, he will, like me, be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harri's hand, his cold skin almost burnt her own,"c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you,” He flinched back slightly, clutching his hands in onto himself as though she has protecting them, he must have just been nervous. 

Harriet set herself with the job to calm the man, "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it."N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harriet to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. 

At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble. "Must get on — lots ter buy.Come on, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Harri's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harri.

"Told yeh, didn't We? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

McGonagall sighed as she continued to brush invisible dirt off of herself “It’s best we don’t gossip Hagrid, I’m sure he’ll get his bounce back once he gets to teaching again” 

Harriet wasn’t listening to her though, her mind was racing.   
Vampires?  
Hags?  
Her head was swimming.

McGonagall, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up... two across.”

"Right, both of you, stand back." She tapped the wall three times with the point of a small stick she pulled out of her pocket, her wand Harriet realized it must be. The brick she had touched quivered —it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared —it grew wider and wider— a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Harri's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harri looked quickly over her shoulder,which was being held by McGonagall’s firm hand, and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

“And before that we need to get her papers from the archives,” McGonagall’s cold voice cut through the air causing Harri to look up into the woman’s eyes. She just now noticed the deep lapis blue of them, they looked like how the girl had imagined the depth of the ocean would look, though she had never been taken close enough to one to see. 

Harri wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad...."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harri's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. Harri swore two of them( a pair of red heads) looked the exact same.   
"Look," Harri heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever — " There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harri had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, ottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....

“The Archives” McGonagall mumbled as she pulled Harri up to one of the many buildings. 

The Archives was a large building with walls made of a material Harri had never seen before, they were black yet had an iridescent sort of glow over them, and upon the corners of the flat roof where one might put gargoyles there were instead statues. The two at the front were the easiest for Harri to see, one looked like a small man with a similar look to the one she had seen at the leaky cauldron- not quite human and at the other corner she could see stood the stature of a tan man in a long cloak with a pointed hat on the top of his head. Before she could ask what the statues were, McGonagall pulled Harri in through the building's stone(?) doors.

Inside Harri couldn’t stop herschel from looking around rapidly. The ceilings were higher than any building she had ever seen and the walls were all covered in book shelves that seemed to go on forever. The room was filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves with people of all shapes and sizes bustling about them, though the majority seemed to be goblins(?), Harri wasn’t quite sure what they were, but she assumed they were who Hagrid had been talking about. In the center of the room stood a large hard wood desk. Sitting at it was a man who looked similar to the statue that sat at the top of the building, next to him sat a black woman in a flouncy pink robe that had a cheery looking demeanor. 

Mcgonagall pushed Harri up to the desk, Hagrid walked behind the pair, and smiled slightly at the pair. “Hello, this is Ms.Harriet Potter and she is here to get her documents all in order before we get her off to Gringotts.”

“Oh- Lady Potter- It’s lovely to see you, I hope you have been doing well. I’ll be off to get your things” the woman smiled brightly at the group before scurrying off into one of the many rows of bookshelves. 

The man smiled up at Harri, his teeth were slightly sharper than average, before saying in his slightly higher pitched voice “Now that Lottie is off to get your things, I suppose it’s my job to explain everything to you. Firstly I’ll introduce myself- my name is Builx, I’m the boss around here. Lottie, the woman that just ran off, is my second in command. We all collect information from all of the families of the wizarding world and help to sort out disputes over ownerships and such. Luckily for you- none of your property holdings have been disputed!” 

“Oh- that's nice sir,” Harri said smilings, but feeling quite a bit uncomfortable. Everyone around them had begun staring at her and she felt the itch of their eyes burning into her.

That is until the woman, Lottie, strided back up to the desk setting down a large book. It’s leather was a deep green and it had golden stitching on the front. As Harri peered at the large book she saw was stitched into it- her name. 

Harriet Daisy Potter was stitched into the front. 

“This, little lady, is your documentation. Now if you would just open it up- we can read your properties” Lottie said, her voice chipper like a flute. 

Harri nodded as she reached up to the desk and opened the book in front of her. As she opened it her hand warmed up making her pull away from it as it popped open, her hand clutched to her chest. 

Lottie let out a little sigh “Oh darling- I should have told you that would happen. The reason we couldn’t open up your book is because it needs your magical signature to open. But look at it this way- if you ever had any doubts that you are Harriet Daisy Potter they should be well and gone now.”

“Yes, yes- Lady Potter can have no doubts now in her lineage. Now I’ll read your properties then we can give you the documentation you need to get into your vault at Gringotts,” Builx said before turning the book to himself and reading out loud “Harriet Daisy Potter. Sole beneficiary to both the noble houses of Potter and Black. Sole owner to both the Potter and Black Vaults- though she has no access to them until she turns of age. Sole owner of the Potter Trust Vault. Owner of 12 Grimmauld Place in London, Potter Cottage, and Potter Manor. Harriet Daisy Potter is the lady of both the noble house of Potter and the noble house of Black. Does all of that sound right Lady Potter?”

“I-” Harri turned to McGonagall because she didn’t know- did that all sound right. Certainly not to her, but she supposed that was because she didn’t see herself as any lady. 

McGonagall smiled down at her before turning to the desk “That all sounds about right. Could you give her the documentation she’ll need to enter the trust vault?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” Lottie rushed off again, but was back again before anyone could speak as she held out a form to Builx. 

The goblin smiled at her before filling it out, the scratchy sound of his quill filled the room, and grabbing a stamp(?) which he pressed firmly to it before handing it to Harri “You’ll keep this safe M’Lady?”

“I- Yes Sir,” Harri nodded firmly as she stuck the paper into her satchel, the leather bag was one of the few things she purchased(from the local thrift store where a woman who smelled like bubblegum worked) rather than made. 

Then her little group was once again off as they scurried through the streets, bustling past people that made Harriet’s eyes grow wide. 

A man with a willowy frame and pointed ears bowed to her as they passed.  
A small woman, goblin(?), ginned wildly at them with her slightly too sharp teeth as she purchased flowers.   
A gaggle of redheads passed by seemingly in their own world as they shopped, though Harri swore two of the boys from the shop before?) pointed at her.   
A scared man looked at her a moment too long before rushing away. 

So many people Harriet wanted to speak to or ask about, but before she could-

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops.  
Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's an elve," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him.  
The elve was about a head shorter than Hagrid with willowy feachers and a cold expression on their face. He?(it was honestly hard to tell with their features) bowed as they walked inside.

Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

“I doubt Harriet would dream of doing so anyway” McGonagall put a steadying hand on Harri’s slightly shaking shoulder. 

A pair of humans(? Harri wasn’t quite sure, but they certainly looked human) bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall.

About a hundred more people(goblins, humans and elves from what Harri could tell) were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing  
coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more employees were showing people in and out of these.

Hagrid and McGonagall ushered Harri to a counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free employee(a goblin if Harri’s assumptions were right).  
"We've come ter take some money outta Ms.Harriet Potter's safe."

"You have her documentation, Sir?"

McGonagall bristled “She has it herself actually.”

Harri nodded, pulling the parchment out of her worn leather satchel and handing it to the man. 

The goblin wrinkled his nose.

Harri watched the elve(?) on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

“Yes yes, that seems all in order. Anything else?”

“Well yes actually, we are here on hogwarts business,” McGonagall pulled a letter out of her bag and handed it to the goblin. 

He hummed a moment “Well this all seems in order, I suppose I should take you all down now. Oh- and I’m Griphook, it's a pleasure to meet you all. Now I suppose its time for us to go bellow"

Harriet's stomach twisted,  
Bellow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry if the end feels kind of abrupt. The site I was using to read the book for free(because I donated my old copy ages ago, but it feels wrong to repurchase a book published in 1997 for over twenty dollars) stopped working on me. I'll try to find a new way (tell me if you've got any?) or I'll just buy the book again. I hope you all have a lovely winter and   
> I should be able to update more after next week.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried, I'm, so sorry if it was bad. I will try to update soon, but I am a college freshman so I don't know my schedule all that well yet. My main goal with this fic is to show that people can heal cause I'm still reminding myself that I can heal.


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